Arrogance
by rainbow-productions
Summary: Something isn't right with Gary when he first comes back, but Petey later finds out that Gary... Is still Gary- but with a new, gay twist. (Ignore the name, completely irrelevant.) Please review! :) (First M-rated!)


He's coming back. Christmas Eve, and he's coming back tonight. When I first heard, I was scared. I never turned on him, not really, but I didn't really support him either. He's a sociopath, doesn't care about anyone. He thinks he's better than everyone else, smarter. I think so too, or at least I did. I wrote him a few times at the asylum he'd been put in, but he never replied. I didn't expect him to, so I would ask how he was and then fill him in on how the school is doing.

Jimmy still runs the school, of course. I thought it would be better, but everyone still picks on me. At least when Gary was around, he was the only that would mess with me. Now it's everyone. Even the nerds. With Gary, I was too cool to be a dork, but too dorky to be anything else. Now I'm nothing.

I did get Jimmy a Christmas gift. I got him a pocket-knife. I'm going to give it to him tomorrow at lunch. I got Gary something, too, for when he gets here. He'll be my roommate, so I didn't get him a knife. I'm still kind of scared of him, even if he did get out on good behavior. I got him a scarf, as stupid as it may sound. I tried to find one that would suit him. It's soft, and a smooth black with white ends, and 'Gary' emblemed in shiny, silvery letters on one end.

I've been pacing my room for a while, trying to decide whether or not to give him the stupid scarf. I know he'll be an ass about it. Unless he really has changed, but... He's a sociopath. He doesn't care about anyone or anything, he's just very good at manipulating people. I sit down on the edge of my bed, holding my head in my hands. He was horrible to me, all the time. He beat on me, called me names, degraded me, but I loved him. Femme-boy was what I was to him. I was like his stress-ball in a way, he hung out with me and all, but took out his problems on me too. Femme-boy the stress-ball.

I shove the carefully-wrapped, green-and-red box under my pillow after what seems like hours, and the door swings open. Gary comes in, dropping his suitcase in front of the dresser. I watch as he kneels down and unpacks his clothes and school supplies, until his suitcase is empty. Then, after shoving it in the corner he rises and turns around.

His eyes dull, and when he sees me something seems to spark in them, but it's gone within seconds. "Hey, Pete." He greets me in a dull tone that I've never heard before. It's empty and lifeless. How much medication is he on? And I wonder- did they do something to him while he was there?

"Hi, Gary." I motion to the top bunk. "You can sleep there, if you want."

He just nods in reply, but says nothing. He just stands there.

"Gary? You okay?"

"Fine."

I don't know what time it is, but it's dark when I open my eyes. I can't see anything, so I close them again. Something woke me- someone walking around the room. I sit up- and hit my head hard on the bed above me. I swear, and the movement stops.

"Well well, little Petey. You said a bad word?" Gary asks in feign, mocking surprise. "That's bad, even for _you_."

"What are you doing?" I ask, switching on the lamp beside the bed. As the light spreads throughout the room I jump back, away from him. He's right in front of my bed, kneeling down to eye-level. How long has he been there? "Why are you awake?" He's wearing boxers, and that's it. It makes me feel almost stupid, sleeping in actual pajamas.

His eyes are wide and crazy, now full of an intensity and a spark. The way they had been after Halloween the year he got taken away. Right after he stopped taking his pills. "Insomnia is a side-effect of those stupid pills they force-fed me."

"Should- should you be taking them now-?"

"Should- should- should-" He stammers, mocking me. "I'm not going back on those, now that I'm out of there." He must see my concern, because he laughs, pushing my chest until I'm laying down. "I'm not crazy, _Petey_. I was, maybe, but I'm smarter now. More stable." He laughs again, sitting down on the edge of my bed. "I blame my father for making me crazy, it's in my genetics. He's in prison, you know. Got expelled from here, like I did, only he was worse. He killed people. I didn't." His words are rushed and all over the place.

"I- I think you should take your pills, Gary."

Both of his hands are on my shoulders, holding me to the bed. "No, I'm not crazy. Everyone tried to tell me I was." He laughs. "And I was, but I get it now. I'm still on some some meds- the ones for paranoia, but I'm dropping everything else."

"When do you need to take the ones for paranoia?"

"Breakfast, can't take it without eating." He shrugs. "Enough drug-talk. You wrote me. A lot." He states. His voice holds the same arrogance it always has, but I don't think he's making fun of me. "Why?"

"I- I don't know, I figured you would be lonely... And we're friends, right? So... Friends write each other." I pause. "You never wrote back. Did you read them?"

"I wasn't allowed to have pencils, Petey." He scoffs. "Like I was about to get myself in more shit." A pause, maybe hesitance before he continues. "After all the times I treated you like shit and we're still friends?" I'm surprised by the uncertainty as well as the question itself. This isn't like him at all. Maybe he has changed.

"Yeah, man. We're friends." I realize his hands are still on me. On my chest now, instead of my shoulders. "You should try to sleep."

"It's either delusions or sleep, friend. Unless you want me to get expelled again."

I ignore the last part. "What are other side-effects?"

"I'm never hungry," I notice, for the first time, that he has lost weight. "I can't sleep, I get pissed off easily..." Because that's so different from before. "And I get horny a lot, especially when it first wears off."

"O- oh..." I finally put two-and-two together and lightly push him away. "W- well I've got to be up early to..." I drift off, not wanting to mention Jimmy. "To give a friend their Christmas gift. I've gotta go to sleep." Then, as he backs up, I remember the gift under my pillow and pull it out. "I got this for you, though, before I forget. It has to be past midnight by now, so... Merry Christmas."

"Thanks, Petey!" I'm not sure if he's being sarcastic. He takes it from me, but doesn't open it. "I didn't get you anything."

"I figured." I shrug, sitting up. "It's okay."

He looks at me for a minute, then tears the paper off and opens the white, cardboard box underneath. He examines the scarf, running it between his fingers until he sees the silver letters of his name at the bottom. He seems speechless. "Did you _pay_ for this?"

"L- look, Gary, if you don't like don't be-"

"I like it." He cuts me off. "I'm just surprised."

Suddenly, he lunges forward and it gets dark. It takes me a second to realize he blind-folded me with the scarf. "Gary, please don't hurt me!" I plead when he grabs my wrists in his hands and holds them above my head. He doesn't reply for a while, straddling my waist.

"You always signed the letters, '_With love, Petey_'. That's not something a non-femme-boy would do." I squirm underneath him, but he's holding my wrists tightly in one hand. The other holds my chin firmly. "You really are a femme-boy."

"I'm sorry! Whatever I did, I'm-"

"I'm not going to hurt you, _Petey_. I actually appreciated those letters."

"Then what-"

"You're adorable." His tone is sarcastic now, and I feel my face heat up. He's making fun of me. He figured out that I loved him, and he's making fun of me.

"You're not funny Gary!" I snap, ripping my arms from his grasp and tearing the scarf away. I throw it at him. "Get off my bed."

His grin fades, and he scowls instead. "I am funny, actually, but I wasn't trying to be." He's still holding my face, holding my cheek now. "If I was, you'd be laughing."

"Whatever." I push his hand away and sit up. "Let me sleep, okay?"

"When I was in that place, they told me no one loved me. They told me I was crazy and that my problems couldn't get better- but you kept sending those letters. Every time I'd be close to losing it, I'd get another letter from you and I knew they were lying. You said '_With love'_ so, that means you love me, right?"

He really has changed. Or maybe he hasn't. Maybe it's a trick. Or maybe he's trying to manipulate me into something. "Get off of me," I beg, my voice higher than I wish.

"No!" He grabs my wrists again, forcing them above my head. His other hand slides up my shirt, resting on my chest. He sits there for a while, watching me with his hand on my chest. Then, he rips the shirt open with his free hand. Buttons fly everywhere, and I squirm as he lowers his mouth to my chest. He leaves a trail of open-mouth kisses down my chest, until he reaches my pants.

"G- Gary, stop!" I beg, my eyes brimming with tears. This isn't happening, this isn't happening. I fucking _hate_ this school. "Stop!" I hate my life.

"You said that you loved me!" He almost screams, his voice muffled in the skin of my stomach. He sits up, his face inches from my own. "You do, don't you? That's why you put up with all my shit. Why you stuck around when I was crazy."

I don't reply, gasping when he thrusts his hips forward, grinding me. "Gary-"

"If you really don't want it, scream. Someone will come running, probably Jimmy." He thrusts again and, again, I gasp. "I'll even switch rooms with someone." Another thrust, and this time I cry out, arching my back. He smirks.

"Gary, come on. Why are you doing this to me?" I realize how pathetic I sound. "What did I ever do to you? I-" With his free hand, he switches off the lamp. I hear myself whimper. "Please don't."

"Don't what, Petey?" He whispers, his voice husky and deep. A hand moves up my covered thigh, and he snorts. "You're such a femme-boy." He moves his hand to my waistband and pulls it down, revealing the white boxers underneath. "I half-expected you to wear briefs." He laughs. His grip on my wrists loosens as he moves down, licking a trail from my chest to the waistband of my boxers. I squirm under him, panting. "If you really want me to stop, I won't fight you." His words surprise me, and his grip on my wrists loosens more so as he sits up.

Only the sounds of our breathing can be heard. My heart pounds in my chest. The silence is deafening, stretching out until it suffocates. I pull my arms away and sit up, watching his mouth twitch into a frown before he grins.

"Maybe you're not such a femme-boy after all." He laughs, an almost bitter laugh. "I thought you were, but even if you are, why would it be me?" His tone is sarcastic and bitter and angry. But I think he's hurt.

In a moment of bravery, I throw my arms around his neck and pull him towards me, his lips touching mine softly at first but harder and deeper after only a moment. He's startled by my sudden change in tune, but doesn't protest when I run my hands down his chest. There are scars there. A lot of them. From what, I don't know. Deep, jagged ones, but even so his skin is warm and smooth in the places where there are not scars. He thrusts again, forcing a cry from my lips. It's muffled by his lips, by his tongue. When he pulls away so we can both breathe, I touch my forehead to his shoulder as I try to catch my breath.

"I do." I state. "Love you, I mean." My voice is so small, so _afraid_. What if it's a trick? What if he is just trying to hurt me? What if he didn't mean anything he said?

He doesn't reply, just wraps his arms around my waist. Suddenly, he shifts so that I'm sitting in his lap, one leg on either side of him. He grinds his hips upward, pressing his lips to mine to muffle my cry. Again and again he thrusts and grinds against me, and it doesn't take long before I can't take it anymore and, holding onto him tightly as I cry out, I writhe in his arms. He pulls back, smirking. "That didn't take long."

"Shut up!" I hide my face in the space between his neck and shoulder. "I've never done it before."

"At all...?"

"No."

"You don't jerk it?"

"No!" My face is burning, and I'm too embarrassed to look up.

"You really are a girl." He laughs. I can feel it in his chest when he laughs, a deep, throaty kind of laugh when he's not really making fun of me. "No, scratch that, girls do it too."

"It's- it's embarrassing." I state, pulling away from him a bit.

"Oh, god, you're hopeless." He says, but kisses me on the lips again. He pushes me onto my back and lays down beside me, taking my hand. At first, I'm confused because something affectionate is _very_ out of character for him- until he brings my hand to himself and underneath the boxers and strokes himself- with my hand.

"What are you doing?" I demand, trying to resist the urge to jerk my hand away.

"Since you're an all-out virgin, I'll show mercy and not completely ruin you tonight. But I never got off, Petey." Holding my hand around his, uhm, self, he quickens pace. I listen to his deep breathing as it goes faster and faster. When he starts moaning quietly, I can feel myself getting excited again. He thrusts his hips up and cums in my hand. I frown at the sticky substance, but when I meet his eyes I manage a nervous smile. He smirks, the closest thing to a smile that I've ever seen on him, and sits up. I watch him dig around the room for a while until he finds a Klenex and returns, cleaning both of us off and tossing it in the floor.

"That's really gross, Gary." I state, my voice weak and tired. He climbs back into the bed and brings the blanket over the both of us.

"Well it's your jizz and my jizz, so either way we've both already touched it before and it doesn't matter who picks it up." I blush, and he chuckles. "You're really fucking hot. Not as hot as me, of course, but the closest anyone could be."

I stare at him, laying on my side to face him. He's on his back with his hands behind his head. As he breathes, I watch his chest rise and fall. Finally, he grins and looks at me. "Just can't get enough of me, huh? Yeah," He turns to his side and pulls my body flush against his. "I tend to do that to people."


End file.
